Fifteen days

The blonde, the cat lady, the best friend, the newlyweds, the sixteen year-old, and the idealist—these are the people that the summer of 2009 has revolved around. Everyone that I’ve wanted to spend time with, I’ve done so about every fifteen days. These people make my life interesting. They give me opportunities to just be, without asking for anything in return. In fact, I sometimes find myself unwinding and talking only about myself when I’m around them, for it seems like I have to take every opportunity I can to process my thoughts and figure out where I’m at in this moment in time. However, the conversations are all starting to sound the same, and I begin to wonder if I’m actually moving forward or just stuck in this moment.

Having four months of summer gives one an opportunity to create and progress in one’s life. I’m not sure it was meant to be a standstill moment where one waits until life begins again at his or her school or university. Traditional college students are stuck in the routine of life they’ve had since they were five, perhaps even four years old, which is life lived from fall to spring, the demands of education being the demands of life. Summers during one’s childhood are full of laughter and play, but what are summers supposed to be for the young adult still in the educational schedule? Even my friends who pursued their Master’s degree right after their undergrad still find themselves waiting for life to begin come August or September. My friends who become teachers may never get out of this routine.

I wonder if the day will come for me when life won’t have to be lived out of suitcases and storage containers. These days a few clothes packed away, money, identification, and a means of transportation are my freedom to go where I please, to live life anywhere. It feels good to know I have this freedom, but on days when I actually use my given opportunities, I long for a home.

So much relies on a big man in his late forties, beaten down by the hardships of life and the mixed up chemicals in his brain. My sense of home, my sense of security, my sense of family; he holds these loosely.

I think I’ve seen them all in the last fifteen days. I’ve spent time with them, and others, trying to figure out who I am and how I got here and how they became my friends and family. That’s enough for now, but what happens come September?

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